Lost and Found
by Tuch
Summary: Faith helps Angel protect Connor, and she must convince Lindsey to help out in the cause.
1. Default Chapter

Lost and Found  
  
Rating: R (for language and sex)  
  
Genre: Romance/Drama  
  
Summary: Faith helps Angel protect Connor from Wolfram & Hart, and she must convince Lindsey to fight his own demons for the cause.  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, except for the insignificant ones. Spoilers through the end of season 4. Feedback always welcome.  
  
Lindsey kept his attention between the white striping as he flew over the empty country road, the only light emanating from his mud-encrusted headlights. The old pickup let him know with every jolt that he was driving well above the speed limit, but it was comforting, somehow. When was the last time he'd been comfortable, he wondered? Jumping from one bar to the next with nothing but a guitar and pocket full of change wasn't a comfortable way to live, but neither was spending his days watching over his shoulder for the Wolfram and Hart ax to fall.  
  
Now he was wandering aimlessly in a truck twice as old as he was, wondering what the hell to do next. He could have gone back to law, but the idea filled him with a dread he couldn't explain.  
  
As he contemplated his next move, Lindsey spotted something metallic moving between the trees on the side of the road. Suddenly, the metallic object jumped onto the road, attached to a figure dressed in black. He swerved, but not in time to avoid the thud of a body hitting his bumper, then his windshield. He slammed on the brakes, and the body rolled off his car and onto the street.  
  
He jumped out of his cab and slammed the door shut behind him. What the hell was someone doing out at two in the morning? And what possessed them to run into the street?  
  
He absorbed the details as he approached the prone form. A woman, definitely, and the metallic glitter he'd spotted from within the trees had been caused by the flashing of her steel-tipped boots. Tight, black leather pants and a denim jacket completed the look, but that was all he could make out until he turned her over. Then his breath caught in a space between his tonsils and his larynx.  
  
Faith.  
  
It had been years since he'd seen her last, but she had the same trademark wild brown hair and the same cynical eyes that seemed to be taking in everything at once.  
  
"Faith," he started. "What the hell-"  
  
"Duck," she interrupted.  
  
He blinked with incomprehension, and Faith knocked him to the ground with one arm. With the other, she launched a stake through the air and into a target somewhere behind him. Lindsey heard the inimitable sound of a vampire collapsing into dust.  
  
"How many more are there?" he asked.  
  
"About two dozen. I found a nest about a half mile from here."  
  
"And you went in with only a stake?" He didn't remember Faith being stupid.  
  
"I didn't know it was a nest until I got there, jerk-off." She winced as she lifted herself to her knees, then to her feet. "Either fight or get the hell out of my way, McDonald."  
  
She gritted her teeth and launched herself into the path of another vampire. Lindsey spotted two more behind it, and he knew it would be moments before the others converged. He backpedaled toward the truck.  
  
Faith tried to ignore the stabs of pain in her side and in her right leg as she battled the three vampires that surrounded her. She'd already taken a bit of a beating -- and was making a hasty retreat -- when skanky lawyer-boy had creamed her with his pickup of doom. Now she was cornered, and all she could do was fight like the street brawler she was. She felt Lindsey back steadily away, but she couldn't take the time to be pissed that he was leaving her there. Maybe later, after she dusted these vamps, she'd track him down and make him choke on his own tongue.  
  
Faith whipped out a stake from inside her jacket and dusted the vampire rushing at her. Another clocked her from behind, and she pitched forward to her knees. The vampire kicked her in the ribs and grabbed her by the hair. She instinctively reached out and grabbed it, and both fell backward onto the pavement. They rolled around, neither gaining the upper hand, and she cursed herself. If she'd been at full power, this sorry excuse for a vampire would never have landed a single blow.  
  
Faith was starting to worry that she might have run out of gas when, just as suddenly as the fight had started, it was over. The vampire on top of her burst into dust, and, once again, she was surrounded by the sounds of night. She looked up and spied Lindsey standing on top of his truck, crossbow in hand. Several piles of ashes littered the ground nearby, already beginning to dissipate in the light summer breeze. He jumped down from the truck and smirked at her in a way that made her want to make him eat his arrow.  
  
Lindsey offered her a hand, which she ignored as she once again climbed to her feet.  
  
"Aren't you going to thank me?" he asked.  
  
"For what?" she said. "For hitting me with your car, or for not running like a coward after the fact?"  
  
His smirk melted into a narrow line, and they stared at each other for a few long seconds. "It's almost ten miles to the nearest town," he said tightly.  
  
"I know."  
  
"Where's your car?"  
  
"I don't have one."  
  
"You walked all the way out here?"  
  
"It wasn't a problem before."  
  
"Before you got your ass handed to you," he finished. She flipped him off none too discreetly. He began to pace back and forth in front of the truck.  
  
"I'm NOT giving you a ride," he said. He gripped the crossbow in his hand and stared downward as he paced.  
  
"I didn't ask you to," she replied.  
  
"I mean it. No rides with psychos, even if they are hurt. It's a policy of mine."  
  
"What's your fuckin' problem?" she asked, her eyes narrowing. "I didn't ask you for a ride. I'll get back on my own."  
  
"OK, fine!" he shouted. "Just get in the truck and shut up already!" He tossed the crossbow into the bed and tossed a blanket over it, all the while trying to ignore the pointed stare of the Slayer. Faith climbed into the cab and shoved her duffel bag beneath the seat. She closed the door carefully and watched Lindsey mutter to himself under his breath.  
  
This was a bad idea, she thought. She was accepting a ride from someone who had nearly managed to get her to kill the only friend she'd ever had, and he was clearly crazy. But her ribs ached at the mere thought of walking ten miles. Besides, even in her current state, she could handle Wolfram & Hart trash.  
  
He started up the truck, and Faith pulled a cigarette from her pocket.  
  
"Mind if I smoke?" she asked.  
  
"Yes. No smoking in my truck."  
  
She lit the cigarette and took a long, slow drag.  
  
"Aren't you supposed to be in prison?" he asked. "You know, with the other convicted murderers?"  
  
"As opposed to working at a law firm full of unconvicted murderers?" That earned her a glare.  
  
"Speaking of which," she continued, "aren't you supposed to be there right now? What are you doing out in the middle of nowhere, doing your Marlboro Man impersonation?"  
  
He wondered how much he should tell her - how much he wanted to be bothered telling her. Why did it even matter?  
  
"I don't work for Wolfram & Hart anymore," he explained. He told her about the human parts factory and his brand new hand, and how Angel had finally convinced him to leave Los Angeles.  
  
"So, Angel got to you, too," she said. He spotted her glance at his hand and then look away.  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, his fingers tightening on the steering wheel.  
  
"Down, boy. Just making a point that Angel has a way of getting under your skin, making you a better person."  
  
"Not me," he said simply.  
  
She quirked her eyebrow. "So that's why you stuck around to help me out? And why you offered me a lift?"  
  
"What the hell are you?" he asked, "the patron saint of reformed criminals?"  
  
Faith allowed a small smile but didn't reply. Instead, she told him about her latest trip to LA and her Orpheus trip with Angelus. As she wound up her story, Lindsey pulled into the parking lot of a Motel 6. They got out of the truck, and he made sure to slam the truck door as violently as possible.  
  
"What's the purpose of all this?" he asked. "To show me the light of almighty Angel?"  
  
"No," she replied, her voice deep and low. "I just thought you might enjoy spending a few minutes not being the loneliest bastard in the universe."  
  
She walked toward the lobby, leaving Lindsey to wonder what the hell she'd meant by that.  
  
-- More on the way. 


	2. Chapter 2

Faith settled under the covers. Lindsey's room was on the opposite end of the complex, and she was comforted by the fact that he wouldn't be talking her ear off all night. Not that he was especially chatty, anyway, but she didn't want to think about him. All she wanted to do was sleep.  
  
What she got was a sleep marred by the visions that occasionally clawed at her rest and reminded her, even in her dreams, that she was the Slayer. Dreams of monsters and death and of tortured, desperate souls needing things from her. She'd been in prison for most of them, unable to do anything about the messages she received, but now she was free, and the fierceness of them jarred her from her sleep.  
  
She looked at the alarm clock. It was nearly 7 a.m., anyway, so she grabbed her clothes and headed for the shower. She'd have to spend time figuring out what the dream meant, and why the vision held the constant presence of a certain dangerous lawyer suspended in the background like a trapped fly.  
  
She walked into the parking lot to see a crowd gathered around the entrance of one of the motel rooms. Lindsey's motel room.  
  
"What happened?" she asked a young woman in a black, skintight miniskirt and a red bustier.  
  
"I hear someone died in there," the woman replied.  
  
Faith craned her neck as far as she could, peering between the gaps in the crowd. Yellow police tape blocked the entrance. Just when she was about to give up her curiosity and move on, she spotted Lindsey at the side of the building, talking with a uniformed police officer. They wrapped up their conversation, and she cut off his path to his truck.  
  
"So, what happened?" she asked. She was surprised by how worn out he looked.  
  
"A bear broke into my room. I killed it." He tried to swerve around her, but she blocked his escape.  
  
"A bear, huh?" She looked skeptical, and he glared at her.  
  
"Mind your own business, Faith."  
  
"Ooooh, was that a warning? Never mind the fact that you could never in your wildest dreams kill a bear with your hands. Even if one of them is evil." She knew the comment was a low blow, but she rationalized that he probably deserved worse.  
  
"Not my hands," he explained, sidestepping her insult. "An axe."  
  
"So, what kind of bear has purple blood?" She looked down, and he followed her gaze to his shoes, which were stained with purplish-blue ooze.  
  
His glare intensified. "You're not the Slayer, Faith, as much as to pretend to be. You're just an overpowered street punk with a thirst for violence. Now get---"  
  
The rest of his sentence was cut off when Faith grabbed him by the shoulders and shoved him hard against the side of the truck.  
  
"This isn't about you, you prick! There are going to be more like that thing, and they're going to kill a lot of people. So why don't you just tell me why it was after you?"  
  
"How do you know it will go after others?"  
  
"Despite what you think, I AM the Slayer, and I know shit. Wanna test me?"  
  
He was quiet for a long while, staring at his shoes. Then he looked up.  
  
"OK, I'll tell you about it. But not here."  
  
She nodded and followed him into the truck.  
  
More to come. 


	3. Chapter 3

Lindsey drained the last of his coffee, signaling the end of his story, and Faith whistled. The diner was empty except for them and the counter girl, who looked about 16 and was busy cleaning beneath her fingernails with a metal file.  
  
"Boy, you're fucked," Faith said quietly.  
  
Lindsey had told her all about the Oglar demon -- an ambassador of the Senior Partners sent to kill him and anyone else the Partners wanted dead. This one had also been sent to retrieve an ancient scroll that Lindsey had lifted before his hasty retreat from LA. It contained a prophesy that spoke of the coming-of-age of the Destroyer, son of the vampire with a soul. He'd held onto it because it gave him some leverage over Wolfram & Hart -- and Angel, should the vampire ever come after him.  
  
"So, has Angel's little boy been behaving himself?" Lindsey asked.  
  
"Not exactly. He and Darla created quite the hellspawn."  
  
Lindsey's eyebrows rose a notch. At another time he would have been crazed at the thought of Angel and Darla producing offspring, but now he found it hard to care. It was merely a curiosity.  
  
"We have to bring the scroll to Angel," Faith said.  
  
Lindsey snorted. "Not a chance in hell." He stood, and Faith followed.  
  
"I could kill you and take the scroll," she warned dangerously.  
  
"Like you could even find it. Did you think I kept it in my trunk in a case marked 'Ancient Prophesies'?"  
  
Faith frowned. He had a point.  
  
"Then do it because it's the right thing to do," she urged. What the hell was she doing by appealing to this bastard's sense of morality? She should tie him down and beat the information out of him.  
  
"You're forgetting that I'm not one of the good guys," he reminded her. He turned to leave, and Faith's desperation kicked in hard.  
  
"Lindsey, please."  
  
He paused. Something about that simple plea made him stop in his tracks. The depth of it was jarring, especially coming from the person in this world least likely to ever beg him for anything. He sighed, his back still turned to her.  
  
"Fine," he said sharply. "We'll bring the scroll to Angel. Let's go." He walked out the door, and Faith trailed after him, but an annoyed voice stopped her before she could reach the door.  
  
"Hey, someone gonna pay for that coffee?" asked a plaintive voice from the counter. Lindsey was already gone, so Faith reached into her pocket and dropped a five-dollar bill on the table.  
  
"Keep the change," she told the girl, and jogged to catch up with Lindsey.  
  
-- More to come. 


	4. Chapter 4

They were one hour into their drive back to LA, and Faith wasn't sure she could take it anymore. They'd listened to nothing but country music the whole way, and when she'd tried to change the station, he'd slapped her hand away and told her she could deal with it or walk.  
  
And, for some inexplicable reason -- maybe it was the heat, or perhaps it was her current status as frustratingly celibate -- she wanted to jump into his lap right there in the truck, no matter that he was driving. Nothing provoked a "let's get it on" attitude more than two years in the slammer with some of the most butch women alive. The fact that she'd caught him several times checking out her chest hadn't helped her hormone levels.  
  
Faith wasn't one to be coy about sex, and she usually got what she wanted, but this was different. Lindsey was certainly attractive and had a bad-boy appeal that sent her into overdrive, but she'd promised herself that her days of bad decision-making were over. Lindsey wasn't currently evil, but he wasn't exactly good, either, and she wasn't going back to the darkness where she'd been. For now, she'd have to be satisfied with cold showers and the pleasures of her own company. She glanced at him quickly and turned her attention back to the road.  
  
"I know what you're doing," he said tersely. He'd spent the last hour trying to ignore the fact that he was willingly driving into the pit of his own personal hell, and the fact that Angel would likely tear his head off with his bear hands when he got there. He'd also been trying to ignore the furtive glances from the woman beside him.  
  
"You do?" she asked. She didn't know why she was embarrassed.  
  
"Yeah, you're staring at my hand." He cursed himself silently for telling her about the damn hand in the first place.  
  
Faith looked at his hands and remembered that one of them was a replacement. She couldn't remember which one.  
  
"Paranoid much?" she asked. "I wasn't staring at your hand."  
  
"Whatever," he muttered.  
  
They continued on a little longer in silence.  
  
"So, what's Angel's kid like?" he asked, trying to shift out of the uncomfortable cloud that had descended. "Anything like his father?"  
  
"He's sullen and broody, and he's got some nice moves, so yeah, I guess he's a lot like Angel. But he's also a punk and a dirty fighter."  
  
"So, he's exactly like dear old dad, then," Lindsey replied. Faith's voice took on a defensive edge. "It's not Angel's fault you made some bad choices."  
  
"Shut up, Faith. I'm tired of listening to Angel's personal cheerleading squad."  
  
"What the hell is your problem?" she asked. "You're the one who screws up, and Angel is the bad guy?"  
  
"I don't want to talk about this anymore," he countered. "Why don't you just---" His sentenced ended abruptly when Faith reached out with her left foot and jammed on the breaks. Lindsey swerved, and the truck skipped over the side of the road and skimmed the metal railing that divided the road from the woods below.  
  
"Are you crazy?!" he shouted. "We could have been killed! What were you-"  
  
Faith cut off the tirade by grabbing his head and dragging it close to hers, until her lips were pressed hard against his. So much for her promise to herself, she thought.  
  
She allowed him a second to adjust before sliding her tongue into his mouth, and she felt a moment's hesitation before he greeted her with equal enthusiasm. Her fingers moved through his thick brown hair and settled on the nape of his neck, while his hand moved down her torso and rested on the bare skin revealed by her short white tank top. A low groan from the back of his throat fueled the tension in her body and the tension between them. Finally, they pulled away.  
  
He looked at her quizzically and then turned his attention back to the steering wheel.  
  
"What do you say we just pretend that didn't happen?" he said.  
  
She nodded her head. "Agreed."  
  
Within moments, they were back on the road, and Faith gritted her teeth. That kiss had certainly not helped her own already uncomfortable situation, but if Lindsey wasn't interested, she could handle it. There were plenty of other willing men out there.  
  
The rest of the ride was quiet, and Lindsey did his best not to look at his passenger. The kiss had been a surprise. He hadn't expected her to grab him, and he hadn't expected to kiss her back. There was no denying that Faith was hot, and any man in his position would have done the same. But playing games with Faith was likely to get him into trouble he didn't need, if it didn't outright get him killed.  
  
It was nearly dark by the time they entered the Los Angeles city limits, and Lindsey looked at his watch.  
  
"It's late" he said. "Wanna find a place to sleep for the night before we hit the Hyperion?"  
  
"Angel's a vampire," Faith said unnecessarily. "He's probably awake."  
  
Lindsey's face scrunched up.  
  
"Afraid?" she asked.  
  
"Of course not," he shot back. "Don't be stupid."  
  
They pulled into a parking spot in the front of the building and knocked on the door. It creaked open, and an elderly man's head peeked out.  
  
"Can I help you?" he asked.  
  
"Ummm.yes," Faith started. "I'm looking for Angel. Is he here?"  
  
The man shook his head. "No one by that name here. Sorry." He closed the door.  
  
"Well, we tried," Lindsey said. "Time to go." He turned to leave, but Faith caught him by the collar of his flannel jacket.  
  
"Don't be a dick," she warned. "They probably just moved. We'll find them."  
  
-- More to come. 


	5. Chapter 5

An hour later, Lindsey exited the café with a single sheet of paper in his hand. Faith was waiting for him in the truck.  
  
"Find anything?" she asked.  
  
"Lucky for us, Angel Investigations is listed." He tossed a piece of yellow phone book paper in her lap and stared straight ahead, his eyes locked on the road. She ignored the paper for a moment to stare at him.  
  
"Do you have that thing patented?" she asked.  
  
"What thing?"  
  
"The Lindsey McDonald death glare." She did a perfect imitation of his glare, and he caught himself grinning despite himself. He put the key in the ignition and started the engine.  
  
"Where are we going?" she asked.  
  
"The LA office of Wolfram & Hart."  
  
* * *  
  
The members of Angel Investigations listened quietly as Faith told her story. It was 9 p.m., and they were the only people left in the building, with the exception of the janitorial staff. With the news, Angel had had to explain to the others who Connor was. Faith noted that they seemed surprised, but not exactly knocked out of their shoes. She supposed that Fred, Wes, Gunn and Lorne, having seen even more strange shit than she had, were made of sterner stuff than that.  
  
"What does the scroll say?" Angel asked.  
  
"I don't know," Faith answered. "Lindsey was a bit vague on that. Only that your kid has quite a future ahead of him, and that the Senior Partners appear to be out to squash that future."  
  
"Where's born-again lawyer now?" Gunn asked.  
  
"He's waiting outside in his truck."  
  
"Why didn't he come in here and tell us this face-to-face?"  
  
"Because he'd never get back out alive," she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.  
  
"How do we know this isn't a game?" Wesley asked.  
  
"I think he's on the level. I practically had to drag him here to give you the information."  
  
Angel stood from his folded-arm perch on the couch. "He's dangerous, Faith."  
  
"So was I. Maybe he's changed."  
  
"Yeah, like we haven't heard that before," muttered Gunn.  
  
Faith felt a surge of impatience.  
  
"Fine, believe he's the devil or not, but right now he holds some very important information about your kid. If you don't want it, just let me know."  
  
Angel turned inward, appearing to weigh his options, and then nodded. He moved toward the door and opened it to find Lindsey standing there.  
  
"I thought you weren't coming in," Angel said.  
  
"I decided to take my chances."  
  
He walked past Angel and ignored the dirty looks directed his way.  
  
Angel stepped up to him, his arms still folded. "What do you know about my son?"  
  
Lindsey matched Angel's body language. "Hey, Angel, don't get mad at me just because your son is a screwup just like his old ma-"  
  
A solid punch sent Lindsey flying across the room, and he landed with a thud near a solid oak desk. Angel moved in for a second strike, but Faith stepped between them.  
  
"Enough!" she shouted, her impatience boiling over. "I like a good fight as much as anyone, but I didn't come here for a pissing contest. Angel, do you want the info or not?"  
  
He was silent for a moment, and then he nodded and stepped back.  
  
"What do you have?"  
  
Lindsey pulled himself to his feet and made a point of not rubbing his face where Angel had hit him. He pulled off his left shoe, scratched open a piece of material and pulled out a microchip.  
  
"I thought you said it was a scroll," Faith said with surprise.  
  
"It used to be a scroll. Now it's a microchip. Welcome to the 21st century."  
  
Angel took it and passed it onto Fred.  
  
"See what you can get from this," he ordered her. She took it and placed it carefully in a box.  
  
"I'll get right on it."  
  
Angel turned back to Lindsey. "Don't leave town."  
  
"Funny," Lindsey replied, replacing his shoe. "The last time we spoke you told me not to come back."  
  
"Things change."  
  
"Yeah, like you sleeping with the enemy."  
  
Faith noticed Angel's muscles tense. She didn't know why was suddenly working for Wolfram & Hart, but she trusted him.  
  
Lindsey was halfway to the door when Faith stopped him.  
  
"Hey," she said. "Wait for me by the truck." He paused, almost as if he hadn't comprehended the words. Then he nodded and continued out the door. She locked eyes with Angel but spoke to the others. "Can I have a moment with your boss?"  
  
The others left, and she was alone with him.  
  
"So, is that a new cologne you're wearing? Eau du asshole?"  
  
Angel grinned tightly. "It's complicated between me and Lindsey. He tried to kill people I care about."  
  
"And I didn't?"  
  
"It's different with him, OK? He's never going to change. Why are you suddenly on his side?"  
  
Faith's eyes lowered, and she bit her lower lip.  
  
"Oh, God," Angel said. "Please don't tell me you're in love with---"  
  
"No, of course not," interrupted Faith. "Maybe I just see a lot of myself in him. It's not pleasant to watch."  
  
Angel looked unswayed. "If he is for real, I promise I'll refrain from killing him."  
  
Faith turned and walked out, wondering when Angel had gotten so hard. She trotted down the stairs and into the parking lot and was surprised to see that Lindsey had, in fact, waited for her.  
  
"So, did he threaten to tear me limb from limb?"  
  
"Not exactly," she said evasively. "So, where to now?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Where are you spending the night? I was going to go look for a motel."  
  
"Aren't you sleeping with Angel?" he asked. The moment the words left his lips he knew they came out all wrong, but, fortunately, she chose to interpret them as they were intended.  
  
"I'd kill for Angel. Even die for him. But I'm not sure I want to be in the same room with him right now."  
  
Lindsey graced her with his second smile of the evening. "The Holiday Inn. Wanna ride there?"  
  
"Can I drive this time? You drive like Dawn Summers on a sugar high."  
  
She knew he had no idea what she was talking about, but he dropped the keys into her open palm, and they drove away. 


	6. Chapter 6

Faith threw herself onto the bed and stretched. It had been a long day, with a lot of time trapped in a dirty pickup truck. With Lindsey. The Lindsey part had been surprisingly pleasant, although she'd never admit it to his already overinflated ego. She felt comfortable with him in a way she hadn't with anyone else -- even Angel. She knew they were on the same level, and that made her wonder whether he was getting better or she was getting worse.  
  
Faith took off her denim jacket and tossed it onto a nearby chair. She'd intended to practice her Tai Chi, but Lindsey kept creeping back into her awareness. Angel had seemed surprised at her protectiveness of the former Wolfram & Hart employee, and, frankly, so was she. It wasn't like they could sit and reminisce about the good ol' days. But something still made her angry at the way Angel had treated him. She rubbed her eyes and tried to put it out of her head. There was no point in torturing herself with it tonight.  
  
She slipped into her black pajamas and was about to crawl beneath the covers when something caught her attention. It was a subtle sound, and anyone but the Slayer or a vampire would have missed it. Someone was lurking outside.  
  
Gripping a stake in her hand, she tiptoed to the door. She opened it slowly, carefully, preparing to kill anything that wasn't human. She stopped suddenly when she saw Lindsey staring at her. She dropped her hand to her side and released a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding.  
  
"Can I help you, McDonald?"  
  
"I didn't expect you to answer the door."  
  
"So you were going to stare at my doorknob all night?"  
  
"No, I." He faltered, searching for words, then he looked up sharply and caught her eye. "I wanted to thank you for sticking up for me in front of Angel today. You didn't have to, but you did anyway. So thanks."  
  
"Are you done?"  
  
"Yeah." He turned to leave, but she caught him by the shoulder and pulled him close, dropping the stake and picking up where they'd left off in the truck. He placed his hands heavily on her hips, pressing his body even tighter to hers. Finally, he pulled his lips away, but their foreheads still touched.  
  
"This is getting dangerous," he said softly.  
  
"Yeah, that's me." She pulled him inside, slammed the door shut and pushed him backward onto the bed. He was silent as she straddled him.  
  
"Are you sure about this?" he asked.  
  
"Totally," she murmured, her lips centimeters from his. "But say the word and I'll let you leave here with your virtue intact."  
  
He laughed hollowly. "It's way too late for that."  
  
Faith held his arms above his head and pinned him to the bed, covering the length of his body with hers. God, it had been a long time she'd gotten laid. She didn't even care if it WAS Lindsey McDonald. Her main concern was how quickly she could get his pants off.  
  
Lindsey wasn't surprised to learn that Faith was aggressive in bed. He'd even had a fantasy or two in the car about what kind of lover she'd be. He'd imagined leather and chains and a startling array of toys would be involved. The last truly memorable encounter he'd had was with Darla -- another woman who liked to be in charge. He'd done things with Darla he hadn't done with any other woman. But Faith wasn't a vampire. She was a Slayer. Where Darla's skin was cold and unyielding, Faith's was searing and surprisingly soft. She was on top of him and slowly rubbing herself against him, making him insane before he'd even gotten his clothes off. He knew she could tear him apart before he'd even know what hit him, but damned if he was going to be her bitch. He rolled over smoothly until he was on top, and slid her pajama top over her head. Damn, she was beautiful, he thought. Even more beautiful than his fantasies had allowed.  
  
Faith was surprised by the fluid motion with which he'd placed himself over her. She'd always been the dominant one in any sexual encounter, but, for some reason, this time she didn't mind sharing. She clawed at the button on his jeans while he nibbled at the skin on her neck, and her skin burned. Within moments they were both naked and sitting up, with Faith's legs wrapped around his torso.  
  
Lindsey ran his fingertips slowly down her body, followed by his tongue. He explored every inch of her body with both as she continued to rub against him. She sank her teeth into the skin on his shoulder, and he let out a strangled scream, but he didn't pull away.  
  
"Again," he whispered.  
  
She bit him again, this time on the other shoulder, and blew softly on the raw skin. This was crazy, she thought. Sex was usually a wham-bam procedure, and foreplay was something of a new experience for her. She wasn't sure she could stand much more.  
  
Then they were one, and thought abandoned her. Their bodies moved together as if they'd been designed just for this experience.  
  
Lindsey bit back the waves of heat and pleasure that coursed through him. He didn't want this to be over too quickly. He wanted her to moan as loudly as he was moaning, to keep whispering his name like a mantra. He wasn't disappointed. She dug her nails into his back and let loose a scream that made him shiver. He held on a little longer, and she followed with another. Then he let go, and the world dissolved until there was nothing but Faith clinging to him, her heat and her sweat and all that amazing wild hair.  
  
They held each other for a moment after it was over. They were done, but he was reluctant to pull away from her. Finally, he did and reached for his pants.  
  
"Wait," she whispered. He turned back to see her staring at him, her head on the pillow. She raised herself onto her elbows.  
  
"No strings attached," she said. "I was looking for a fuck friend, not a dog and a white picket fence. But it wouldn't be so bad if you stayed the night."  
  
He looked at her for a long while and then dropped his pants to the floor and crawled back into bed. An irrational part of him was disappointed that this was just a casual encounter for her, but he hadn't even expected her to open the door, let alone drag him inside for what had transpired. Besides, she was right. White picket fences weren't his thing, either. 


	7. Chapter 7

Lindsey and Faith met Angel and his crew in an abandoned warehouse at eight the next morning. The car ride there had been silent, with neither of them feeling comfortable enough to talk about what had happened the night before.  
  
"Do you have what you want?" Lindsey asked Angel. "Can I leave now?"  
  
"What else do you know about the scroll?" the vampire replied.  
  
"You read it. You know everything I do."  
  
Angel motioned for Fred and Wesley to explain to the others the contents of the scroll. A bleary-eyed Fred pointed out stick figures on a white board while Wesley gave his presentation.  
  
"The prophesy states that the son of the ensouled vampire and another unnamed person will launch a battle against the forces of Wolfram & Hart, destroying their center and closing them down for good," he said. Fred pointed to two tiny stick people, then to a building overshadowed by a lot of dark squiggles.  
  
"But that's impossible," Angel protested. "All of Connor's memories were altered. He's living the normal life of a college student."  
  
Lorne broke in. "You can't change a person's destiny, Angel-cakes."  
  
"What about Cordelia?" asked Gunn. "Does it say if she'll wake up?"  
  
"We're not sure," Fred answered. "The prophesy does say that the Lost One will return, but that's pretty vague."  
  
Faith said, "The Oglar demon that went after Lindsey is going to go after Connor."  
  
"Are you certain?" Wesley asked.  
  
"Positive. I saw it in a dream, and those goddamn dreams are always right."  
  
Angel strode purposefully across the room. "So we need to find Connor. Now. Without the Senior Partners finding out about it." The others nodded in agreement, all except for Lindsey.  
  
"My work here is done," said Lindsey, heading for the door. Angel cut him off.  
  
"You're not going anywhere," he said. "You know more about Wolfram & Hart than the rest of us combined. You need to find out how they intend to find this other person."  
  
"Why the hell would I help you any more than I have?" he asked. "Now let me go."  
  
Angel growled but let him leave, and Faith moved quickly to the door.  
  
"Do you intend to follow your new boyfriend?" Angel snarled. Faith didn't ask how he knew about them. He'd probably smelled them on each other or something equally creepy.  
  
"I intend to stick around and help you save your son, but I might be able to get Lindsey to do the same." She stalked out after him.  
  
Faith caught up with him as he ran down the stairs. It was dark, and the dust accumulation told her nobody had used the warehouse for months.  
  
"Lindsey, stop!" she ordered. He ignored her and picked up speed. When it was clear that he wasn't going to stop, she launched herself over the railing and landed on top of him, pinning him to the floor.  
  
"In the mood again?" he asked, all venom. She reigned in an impulse to beat the shit out of him.  
  
"No. But innocent people will die if you don't stop being a twit."  
  
"I doubt it," Lindsey replied. "Angel will find a way to save them. He always does."  
  
"Damn it, McDonald, stop being a stubborn asshole and just do it!"  
  
His eyes narrowed. "Why do you care if I help?"  
  
That was a good question -- one she'd been asking herself since the night before, as she'd fallen asleep in his arms. In a flash of unaccustomed insight, she figured it out. It wasn't so much that Angel needed the help: If his son's life was in danger, he'd move the heavens to make things right. Her very real fear was that Lindsey's soul was still in limbo. During his rare unguarded moments, she sensed the lostness she herself had been mired in just a few short years ago. Angel hadn't given up on her, and she resolved that she wouldn't give up on Lindsey. She lowered her face to his.  
  
"I know you're better than this," she whispered. She gripped his replacement hand in hers and pulled it to her chest.  
  
Lindsey stared at her, for the first time in his life at a loss for words. He didn't know why he nodded, or why he agreed to put his life on the line for the world's most arrogant vampire and his bastard son.  
  
Boy, I must really be whipped, he thought, as he followed Faith back up the stairs. 


	8. Chapter 8

Team Angel, with the addition of Faith and Lindsey, spent the next week working on their problem. Gunn and Faith tailed Connor during the day, while Angel took the night shift. Wesley, Lindsey, and Fred spent their days researching the prophesy and looking for ways to track down the other person mentioned in the scroll. Lorne took up his usual role of bringing the funny -- and the muffins.  
  
But the nights were what interested Lindsey the most. He and Faith had spent every night of the week together. Either he would end up at her door, or she would come to his. After the second night, they'd dispensed with words entirely. They merely fell into each other, knowing what the other wanted and needed, and several hours later they'd fall asleep tangled in limbs and sheets, sweaty and exhausted. One night she was slow answering the door, and he felt a sharp stab of desperation, which eased only when the door creaked open to reveal her barefoot, pajama-clad body.  
  
On the eighth night, they didn't have sex. Instead, she kissed him softly over every inch of his body, and he spent the night tracing her curves and many battle scars with his fingertips. He'd taken to resting his face in her neck, where he could inhale her scent. She didn't smell of perfume or body powder or any of the things women usually smelled of. She was all soap and power and startling vulnerability wrapped in a black satin package.  
  
Faith opened her eyes to see him staring at her.  
  
"Do I have bitchin' morning breath?" she asked, groggy.  
  
"No," he replied seriously. "You're perfect. And beautiful."  
  
Many men had told Faith that she was beautiful, and she knew she was attractive. Guys were drawn to her because she exuded a "go all night until you collapse in a pool of your own sweat" kind of sexuality, but no one had ever said it with the sincerity she heard in Lindsey's voice. Men told her what they thought she wanted to hear because they wanted what she had to offer. Lindsey was already getting a nightly booty call, so he had no reason to try to charm her.  
  
As he watched her, his expression changed subtly. "Faith, why are you here?" he asked.  
  
"Because you invited me in, genius." She lifted herself and they were both sitting up, their faces inches apart.  
  
"You know what I mean. Why are you here every night with me?"  
  
She wanted to say something flip, something that would roll off her tongue and fly through the air like an acrobat, but the only thing that came to mind was the truth, and the words lodged in the stone altar in her chest.  
  
"I get it," Lindsey said. His tone was clipped, and he rose off the bed and onto his feet. "You're on a mission."  
  
"Wh-what?" she asked, still foggy with sleep. The sudden mood swing caught her off guard.  
  
"Is this how Angel worked you over?" he asked sharply. He dressed as he spoke, fumbling with the buttons on his white cotton shirt. "Did he screw your brains out until you turned into a good little girl? Until you spread 'em whenever he came calling?"  
  
Faith struck out, landing a punch that sent him staggering backward.  
  
"I am not a whore," she said, enunciating each word carefully.  
  
"I know," he agreed. "You're not a whore. At least whores get paid." He grabbed his backpack and stormed out, leaving Faith furious and wondering what the hell had just happened. 


	9. Chapter 9

Faith took a cab to the warehouse where they'd been meeting every morning. They'd chosen this place because it was deserted and because it was adjacent to a sewer entrance, which Angel could use to come and go as he pleased. When she got to the room way at the back, she noticed that Angel was the first to arrive. She threw her duffel into a corner and plopped on the ground next to him.  
  
"Wanna talk about it?" he asked. She shook her head.  
  
"Want me to break his legs and beat him with them?" That earned him a small smile.  
  
"I'm a fucking moron," she said bitterly. "I don't even know what happened."  
  
She told him about the fight at the motel, and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders as she struggled not to choke on her own words. "I never thought I'd be one of those poor saps, sitting here with a broken heart."  
  
Her own words stunned her. When had she let Lindsey get close enough to her heart to break it?  
  
"You're tough, Faith. You've been though worse than this."  
  
She nodded. She knew she'd survive a few harsh words from Lindsey McDonald, but the short-term lead ball in her chest still hurt like hell.  
  
"Can I ask you a question?" Angel asked. "What possessed you to fall for him?"  
  
"I suppose you've never slept with someone just because the thought of spending another night alone made you want to slit your own wrists and be done with it." She shook her head ruefully. "No, you wouldn't understand."  
  
Angel offered her a thin-lipped smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I think I can imagine it," he said. "I assumed it was just good sex."  
  
"No, it was GREAT sex," she corrected. He winced and turned away.  
  
"I really did NOT need to hear that."  
  
"You're the one who brought it up."  
  
"So, that's why you're all mopey now? You miss a week of great sex?"  
  
She stared intently at the lines in her hands. Yes, she missed the sex. She missed waking up to find his hand resting absently on her hip. She missed the mornings after -- full of tandem showers and breakfast at the diner across the street, where the waitress had called them a "cute couple." Once, during a break from the search, he'd even taken her bowling. She'd been surprised and humbled by how badly she'd gotten her ass kicked. Being the Slayer didn't mean she was good at games.  
  
They'd rarely said much to each other. There had been an unspoken understanding between them that had resisted idle chitchat. Now that it was gone, Faith felt a disturbing void she hadn't know was there. It couldn't last -- she'd known that on a gut level. Nothing lasted forever, especially for a Slayer. Especially for her. But for one blessed week she'd managed to pretend that she was a normal woman living a normal life with someone she could love completely. There was no point in trying to explain the ache to Angel, she told herself. He was probably delighted by the turn of events. Besides, she wasn't even sure if she was mourning something she'd lost or something she'd never have.  
  
She quickly wiped her eyes and pulled herself together when she heard the others begin to arrive. Within minutes, they were all settled in the empty room.  
  
"Are we waiting for Lindsey?" Wes asked.  
  
Faith gave them a firm 'no' and pretended not to see them toss questioning glances around the room. Apparently, Angel wasn't the only one with an idea of what had been going on between them.  
  
At least Fred had some good news to report. As her red-rimmed eyes could attest, she'd stayed up all night calculating and comparing dates in the prophesy, and she'd come to the conclusion that Connor's ass-kicking buddy was safe, seeing as how he or she hadn't been born yet.  
  
"So why are Wolfram & Hart freaking about it now?" Lorne asked. "Why not wait until the little tyke starts taking his first steps?"  
  
Faith answered, "Because if they act now, their lives will be a lot easier later."  
  
Angel's face turned grim. "They'll go after Connor as soon as they have an opening. We're not going to let that happen." 


	10. Chapter 10

Four hours later, Faith and Wes were standing twenty feet from one of the biggest bloodlettings either of them had ever seen. Big red smears stained the walls, the windows, the doors -- even the bulletin board that announced some college function or another. The police had taped off the scene, and the two of them had had to maneuver through a crowd of morbidly curious onlookers to get a peek at the carnage.  
  
Four students were killed and two were injured when a couple of wild bears, as several onlookers had described them, rampaged through UCLA's main square. The injured students had been taken to the hospital, and Fred and Gunn had already called to report that neither of them was Connor.  
  
"Angel is not going to be happy," Wesley said, flashing his penchant for stating the obvious.  
  
"Yeah," she agreed. "Especially when he sees that." She pointed to a television hanging from the ceiling just inside the main building. A picture of Connor flashed across the screen, and Wesley could hear noise coming from it, but he couldn't make out the words.  
  
"What's it saying?" he asked.  
  
"A freshman named Connor O'Rourke was reported missing just before the killing started. There was no sign of a break-in, and all his stuff is still in his dorm room."  
  
Wesley's head dropped. "There's nothing more to see here. Let's go back." 


	11. Chapter 11

Faith wiped an errant lock of hair from her eyes. The wind had kicked up with the setting of the sun, and she and Angel had taken to the streets.  
  
She'd waited for Lindsey to come back to the motel so she could confront him, find out what had inspired the mindfuck he'd laid on her that morning. When he never returned, she broke into his room to find his things gone, and the clerk told her that he'd cleared out earlier that afternoon. It hadn't taken her long to piece together Lindsey's and Connor's disappearing acts.  
  
"I'm gonna kill him," Angel muttered.  
  
"Not if I get to him first," Faith countered. She punched her open hand with her fist. "He's a dead man." She hoped she would get first dibbs on cracking his skull. From what Angel had sniffed through the grapevine, the combined might of Wolfram & Hart was out looking for Connor, as well.  
  
"Is this the place?" she asked, pointing to the entrance of a rundown bar.  
  
"Lorne's contacts said this is our best bet."  
  
"Wanna knock, or should I?"  
  
Angel kicked the door open in one try. The wood shattered, but no one even turned to look in their direction.  
  
"Ladies first," he said, motioning with his arms toward the door.  
  
The inside was like most demon bars -- dark and dank, but surprisingly cavernous. This one smelled like a peculiar mix of rotting flesh and apple martinis. Faith and Angel split up, each looking for the ex- lawyer who would lead them to Connor.  
  
Faith felt him before she saw him. She couldn't say how, only that a tingle spread from the back of her neck down her spine, until she was forced to turn around. He spotted her at the same time she saw him, and he darted through a back entrance. Without alerting Angel, she took off after him.  
  
"Dead man," she muttered to her herself.  
  
She followed him through empty boxes and garbage cans and over a chain-link fence. He was fast and agile, but she was the Slayer, and it wasn't long before she tackled him from behind, flipped him over and pressed a cold blade to his throat.  
  
"Where's Connor?" she asked.  
  
He stared at her silently, his eyes unreadable. Damn him for being so cool.  
  
"Where's Connor?" she repeated, louder. She pressed the blade to his throat until blood started to bead from a tiny wound.  
  
"Kill me and you'll never find that kid." His words were calm, as if he were giving a weather report, but they had the desired effect. She lifted the knife so it broke contact with his skin. He was right: If she ended his life here, they might never find Angel's son.  
  
"I won't kill you, but Angel definitely will. Want me to sic him on you?"  
  
Lindsey was quiet for a moment, playing out his options in his head. He was good at that -- weighing the pros and cons of a situation, finding the twist that best suited him in the time it took most people to figure out what day it was.  
  
"He's safe," he said, finally.  
  
"That doesn't answer my question."  
  
"Faith, trust me. Please."  
  
"Trust you? Trust you?!" she screamed. "What kind of idiot do you take me for?" She stood up and dragged him to his feet by his collar.  
  
"I don't think you're an idiot." His voice was still calm, almost soothing. She searched his face for some clue as to the game he was playing. "Why did you kidnap him?" she asked.  
  
"What would have happened if I hadn't?"  
  
She considered it for a moment. "He probably would have been killed by Wolfram and Hart's mercenaries."  
  
Her own words sank in, and her eyes widened. "So, you kidnapped him to keep him safe?" she asked, skeptical. "Then why won't you tell us where he is now?"  
  
Lindsey gave her a look that made her feel as if she were the stupidest creature walking the earth. "You think Wolfram & Hart aren't keeping tabs on you?" he asked.  
  
Faith growled in frustration. He wasn't answering any of her questions. He was only giving her more.  
  
"What do you plan to do with him? Hang out with him until Wolfram & Hart give up? And what about this other kid they're trying to knock off? How do we find out who he is, or rather, will be?" She let go of his shirt and paced across the alley. She wasn't worried about him running. If he tried, she was certain she could catch him again easily.  
  
"Full of questions today, aren't you?"  
  
She glared at him, and he threw up his hands.  
  
"OK, OK. I'll tell you this much," he said. "This other person, whoever it is, isn't high on the lawyerly radar. They won't bother with an unborn child until after they've toasted Junior."  
  
"How can you be so sure?"  
  
"Hello," he said, tapping his head with an open palm. "I used to work for the most evil law firm in 16 dimensions," he reminded her.  
  
"Fine," she replied. She wasn't appreciating the snark. "How do we stop them?"  
  
Lindsey hesitated. He appeared to be debating with himself over something, and his lips pursed. Then he reached into his pocket and took out another microchip.  
  
"Give this to Angel," he instructed her.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"Don't ask so many questions. Just give it to him."  
  
She took the chip and placed it carefully in her jacket pocket. There was no reason in the world for her to believe him. She knew Angel would never speak to her again if anything happened to his son because she accepted Lindsey's word. But something in his icy eyes begged her to take a chance, and she capitulated. Besides, she wasn't going to get any information out of him unless she tortured him, and the idea made her queasy. Lindsey tried to leave, but her voice stopped him cold.  
  
"Not so fast," she warned. "I have one more question."  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"Was this last week some kind of stupid-ass game for you? See how fast you can get me in the sack?"  
  
"I don't recall forcing my way into your room," he replied.  
  
"Answer my question." Her eyes were dark brown steel. "I'm a big girl. I can take it."  
  
Lindsey was quiet for a long moment, and then, finally, he said, "I'm good at games. And I like to win."  
  
Faith felt the desire to pummel him melt away, leaving behind a numbness that made her hands cold. God, she was such an idiot. Not just for falling in love with him, but for standing there -- even now, after he'd all but admitted she was little more than a toy -- and hoping beyond hope that he would take the words back.  
  
"Fine," she answered. "But for what it's worth, you were never a 'mission,' 'cause I'm not a missionary. I just believed you could be better than the fucked-up loser you are. I'm sorry I was wrong. Now drop dead." With that, she turned and left him in the alley with the rats and the darkness. 


	12. Chapter 12

Lindsey watched her go, and it was all he could do not to breathe a sigh of relief. She hadn't killed him, and he'd managed to get through the encounter without apologizing for every horrible thing he'd ever done all the way back to filling his neighbor's gas tank with sugar when he was 8. He replayed their last conversation at the motel and winced inwardly.  
  
She'd claimed she wasn't on a mission, but she was a fabulous liar. She thirsted after redemption the way Angel did, like a woman dying in an endless desert, clawing at a single drop of rain. He must have seemed ripe, he thought. Wandering around like a nomad, heavy on the sin, light on the giving a rat's ass. It had occurred to him that morning in the hotel that she didn't really want him - she wanted someone she could feel good about saving.  
  
Again, he told himself he wouldn't be her bitch. He loved her, that much he was sure of. It gnawed at him from someplace deep within his ribs, and it refused to go away, no mater how many passion-filled nights he spent telling himself he was just getting her out of his system. But he'd love her on his own terms.  
  
He'd known she would track him down. Counted on it, in fact. He only hoped Wolfram and Hart wouldn't be as efficient.  
  
"Congratulations, McDonald," he said to himself. "You are officially the world's biggest dick."  
  
Lindsey drove to the other end of town, until he was in another dirty motel in another rundown part of LA. When he opened the door, the boy glared at him but said nothing. It was hard to talk with a thick white towel wrapped around one's mouth. Lindsey threw a white, greasy paper bag on the sole double bed.  
  
"I hope you like Burger King," he said. Connor mumbled something incoherent around the towel, and Lindsey shook his head. The kid had Darla's delicate features, and for a brief moment he missed her. Then it passed and he tore the towel from Connor's mouth.  
  
"What did you say?" he asked.  
  
"I said, 'Why the hell are you keeping me here'?" Connor struggled against the ropes that bound him to the chair.  
  
"Don't worry," Lindsey assured him. "You'll be out of here tomorrow, if your father does what he's supposed to."  
  
Connor's eyebrows furrowed. "What do my parents have to do with this?"  
  
Lindsey ignored him. Instead, he opened the bag.  
  
"I'm only going to say this once, so pay attention, college boy," he said. "I'm going to untie you to allow you to eat. You try and run, and I'll blow your head off." He waved a small pistol he'd kept in his jacket pocket.  
  
Connor nodded, and they ate together in silence. When they were done, Lindsey tied him to the chair and double checked the ropes to make sure they were secure. Then he sat on the bed and engaged in a stare-off with Angel's son. He had to give the kid credit - he never flinched or looked away. He wondered what kind of shit had to have gone down for Angel to give up the only child he'd ever have. Lindsey felt a brief stab of sympathy for the vampire, but it passed in a renewed flush of hatred. He toyed with the idea of beating up Connor just for the hell of it, but that was petty even for him.  
  
"Do you have any idea what a lucky bastard you are?" Lindsey asked. Connor didn't answer. Lindsey hadn't expected him to.  
  
"You got what everyone wants - a big, fat do-over. A shiny red reset button. Do you have any idea what kinds of sacrifices have been made for you?" Again, Connor just blinked at him.  
  
"Say something, goddamn it!" Lindsey screamed. He swung his arm around and cracked Connor across the face. The fear he saw pool in the boy's eyes gave him a small measure of satisfaction.  
  
"You're crazy," Connor answered softly.  
  
Lindsey turned on his heels, ignoring the comment. "Do you know what destiny is?" he asked.  
  
Connor nodded. "Sure. It's when you do what you're meant to do."  
  
Lindsey laughed harshly. "Aren't you the naïve one? No, kid, destiny is when you do what the people who own your soul tell you to do."  
  
He shook his head and paced across the room. The novelty of frightening Angel's son had worn off, and he was gripped by a fear of his own. He wasn't sure what he was more afraid of - what he was about to do, or the fact the he was doing it for her. He thought back to their conversation in the alleyway, and the pain scrawled all over her face in big, sloppy letters. What he'd done then had been messy and unpleasant, but necessary, just as this was necessary. While the survivalist within shouted out in protest, the romantic he kept carefully tucked away was obscenely pleased that his last mortal act would be for her. And the knowledge that Angel would owe him a debt he could never repay wasn't a bad bonus. .  
  
Lindsey checked the knots one last time and walked out, leaving Connor alone in the motel room. 


	13. Chapter 13

"You what?!" Angel asked, his tone flying from neutral to red alert in the time it took to get the words out. Faith felt his eyes burn through her, but she refused to be the one to look away.  
  
"Before you get all self-righteous on me, why don't you take a look at what's on the microchip?"  
  
"Faith."  
  
"Fine," she said, cutting off a lecture. "I agree with you. He's a liar and a bastard, and if he's lying about this I'll rip his head off and piss down his neck. But I need to give him one last shot."  
  
After a few moments locked in a standoff, Angel relented.  
  
This time they were gathered in Wesley's apartment, where Wes was reading the microchip with the help of a state-of-the-art, mega expensive computer he'd gotten courtesy of Wolfram & Hart. Wesley turned from the monitor.  
  
"I have no idea how Lindsey got his hands on this information, but, if it's for real, there's enough here to make the Senior Partners very nervous," he said.  
  
Wesley went on to explain the contents of the microchip. It held details of every facet of Wolfram and Hart's domain, including weaknesses and details Angel was sure the Partners didn't want leaking out.  
  
Lorne asked, "You think this'll be enough to convince them to back off on your kid?"  
  
"I'm gonna find out," Angel answered. He grabbed a sword from Wesley's weapons cabinet and headed for the door. The others followed, but he blocked their exit.  
  
"You're not coming."  
  
"Yes, we are," Faith replied.  
  
"No you're not."  
  
"Yes we are."  
  
"No you're-enough!" he shouted. "You're all staying here."  
  
Gunn stepped to the front of the group. "In case you've forgotten, Angel, you don't work alone."  
  
"Yeah," Faith chimed in. "And if this is a trap, you'll need help fighting your way out of it."  
  
The others nodded their agreement -- even Lorne, who looked as if he'd rather be manning the phones at casa de Price. Finally, Angel gave up.  
  
It took them about 20 minutes to get to the Wolfram & Hart office. It was late, and once, again, the building was dark and silent. Angel led the group to the basement. The hallway was lit by a single wall sconce, and everything was so clean it shone -- literally, and with a creepy, unnatural green glow. An unmarked steel door blocked their way.  
  
"Think I should knock?" Angel asked. He kicked the door hard, but this time an echo sounded through the hallway, and Angel howled in pain. As he danced around, shaking off the pain in his foot, Wesley leaned over and turned the doorknob. The door opened easily.  
  
Angel walked in, with the others behind him, and Faith braced herself for an attack. When none came, she took a look around. The room was about the size of an office but decorated like an old lady's cozy living room. A floral-print couch was settled against the far wall, flanked on both sides by old-fashioned floor lamps, and photographs of cherubs and mountain landscapes adorned the walls. In the wall on the right there was a window, which revealed a view of the LA skyline -- and had no right to exist, since they were in the basement.  
  
"Anyone home?" Gunn called out.  
  
A diminutive old woman stepped in through the window. "Ooooh, I love visitors," she said in a high-pitched, auntie-Em voice. "Would you like some tea? I can make some right-"  
  
"No games," Angel barked. "You know why we're here."  
  
The old woman shook her head sadly. "Yes, I'm afraid I do. After everything we've done for you, you come here to threaten us."  
  
"We have enough info on you to blow most of your plans right out of the water. In return for not doing just that, you're going to leave my son alone."  
  
The woman paused a beat and then said, "OK. Would you like some tea now?"  
  
Faith blinked hard. She'd expected a fight, some bloodshed, or at least some questionable language. She hadn't expected her mother's Aunt Louisa. Angel voiced her doubts when he said, "Is that it? We threaten you and you say OK?"  
  
"Of course, dearie. But we didn't agree to let your son live because of your predictable threats." Her mouth twisted into a nasty smile. "We simply found another way to accomplish our goals." She waved her hand at the window, which was now showing a darkened building top illuminated only by moonlight and a faint glow from the streetlamps below.  
  
"Lindsey," Faith whispered. Sure enough, he was standing on the edge of the roof, his back to the sky. An 8-foot-tall, nasty-looking demon that Faith couldn't identify was moving toward him, pushing him closer to oblivion. The expression on Lindsey's face was passive, and he didn't appear to be putting up a fight.  
  
"What does HE have to do with this?" Angel asked.  
  
The woman merely stared at him, her eyes glinting, and Wesley spoke.  
  
"He's destined to father the one who's to help Connor defeat you, isn't he?" Wesley asked. "If you can get rid of him, Connor doesn't matter."  
  
A stunned silence settled over the room, and Faith didn't protest when her mouth decided of its own volition to hang open stupidly. "How did you find out?" she asked, directing the question to Wesley and the woman.  
  
"Mr. McDonald was good enough to turn himself in," she answered.  
  
"It makes sense now when I think about it," Wesley explained. "The passage that described the second warrior was written differently from the rest. It was all written in Sanskrit, but that passage had a slightly different tone to it, as if someone had revised it to make it purposely vague."  
  
"And you didn't think this was important enough to mention?" Angel asked.  
  
"All prophesies are vague. Prophets in general are vague. I had no reason to suspect Lindsey."  
  
The Lost One will return. That was part of the prophesy, Faith realized. They'd assumed it applied to Cordelia, but she was certain it referred to Lindsey.  
  
"So you're going to kill him?" she asked.  
  
The woman looked at her as if seeing her for the first time. "We're going to take what should have been ours years ago. His soul."  
  
"So he turned himself in to save Connor?" Angel asked. He sounded as if someone had ordered him to sing.  
  
"Yes," the woman said. "And the life of his child's mother." She looked at Faith pointedly. "It was you or him, dear, and he sucked it up pretty well when we pointed out his options."  
  
Faith felt her face grow hot, and her hands tensed around the crossbow she'd packed. Without another word, she took a running leap through the window and vanished. 


	14. Chapter 14

Lindsey saw Faith land -- hard -- behind the big ugly that was trying to force him into a freefall. He didn't care how she'd found him or gotten to the roof so quickly. The more pressing question was, what the hell was she doing? She was going to screw up his last great plan.  
  
"Faith, get the hell out of here!" he screamed.  
  
"I know what you're doing," she said. The demon turned its attention to her and advanced. She fired a crossbow into it, with no effect.  
  
"You know shit," he countered. "Now go away."  
  
Faith didn't answer. She had more immediate problems, like the 300- pound mass of veins and ooze barreling at her. She dodged what could have been a killer blow and launched herself through the air. She was surprised when she bounced off its rubbery skin and fell to the floor.  
  
"If you want to help me fight, fine. Otherwise, shut up."  
  
The fight continued, and Faith was getting worried. The demon was even tougher than it looked -- just as tough as the Beast that had kicked her ass when she'd gone to search for Angelus. But she didn't give up. Everything -- and everyone -- had a weakness.  
  
Lindsey circled it from the back, wondering what to do now. If, somehow, they managed to kill big, bad and ugly, Wolfram & Hart would only come after him again, and probably kill Faith and Connor as well. But the demon was very definitely intent on killing Faith now. He lifted a wooden plank off the ground and hurled it at the demon, distracting it long enough for Faith to land a solid kick that sent it staggering.  
  
Lindsey was thrown off balance by the wildness in her eyes as she landed punch after punch, kick after kick. She wasn't interested in weapons -- she seemed content with beating it with her naked, bleeding hands.  
  
"I hate you!" she screamed. Her attention was on the demon she was pummeling, but Lindsey knew she was talking to him. He couldn't blame her.  
  
"I hate you and everyone who thinks I can't make my own goddamn decisions!" The demon clawed at her and opened a gash in her arm, which she didn't seem to feel.  
  
"You're all the same!" she cried, landing a powerful roundhouse kick.  
  
"Some unknown force thinks I should have superpowers without even asking me if I want them. Then I fall in love with you without having a choice. And now you're going to leave me here alone because you think it's best for me? Well, fuck you!"  
  
Lindsey swallowed hard. Love? What had happened to fuck friends?  
  
Faith fell to her knees, the fight drained from her. What was the point in any of this? she wondered. Lindsey had taunted her with everything she'd ever wanted -- a family, a living soul that loved her despite her scabs and scars, a future beyond the next vampire hunt -- and he was probably feeling all noble about ripping it from her hands. If she was lucky, she might survive a few more years before the inevitable darkness claimed her and the next Slayer was called. Somewhere, a little girl had no idea the level of suck her life was to become. But, for now, that "honor" was Faith's.  
  
Well, that other girl could have it. Faith refused to become what she'd seen Buffy become -- a hollowed-out shell of the person she'd been, mired in her own emptiness. If the darkness wanted her now, it could have her. The demon moved closer, licking what passed for its lips.  
  
"Faith, get up!" Lindsey screamed. What was she doing?  
  
With a yell, he threw himself headlong at the demon. It had been so intent on Faith that it hadn't steeled itself for an attack from behind, and it pitched headfirst over the side of the building, with Lindsey on its back. The demon plummeted to the ground below, and Lindsey clung to the side of the roof. As he pulled himself up over the edge, he heard a revolting splatter from below.  
  
Once safely back on the roof, he took a moment to catch his breath. Faith was studying him quietly in a way that made him want to run. But he didn't. Instead, he dropped to his knees, pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket and pressed it to the wound on Faith's arm.  
  
"How long have you known?" she asked.  
  
"About me? Since a few weeks after I swiped the scroll. I didn't have much to do except study it."  
  
"And me?" she whispered.  
  
"After our first night together."  
  
"Was that in the scroll, too?"  
  
"No, that was just me knowing."  
  
"So, that bitchfest in the motel. What was-"  
  
"Faith?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"If I said I loved you, would you kill me?"  
  
Faith removed his hand from her arm and interlaced her fingers with his. "Why don't you say it and find out?"  
  
"I just did."  
  
Her eyes narrowed. If he was toying with her again, she WOULD kill him, and screw redemption.  
  
He grinned wickedly. "Down, girl. I love you."  
  
Her own lips parted into a smile with a mind of its own.  
  
"Say it again," she ordered.  
  
"I love you," he repeated. Their faces inched closer to each other. "I love you, I love you, I love you I love-" Finally, she was close enough to kiss, so he did. His lips barely brushed hers at first, almost like a tentative first kiss. The desperation of their nights in the motel was gone, but certainly not the wanting. The world was made up of only him and Faith, creating a headiness that deepened with the contact. He felt almost drugged, and he didn't want to come down. Then reality hit him, and he pulled away.  
  
"What?" Faith asked.  
  
"Wolfram and Hart won't give up. I made a deal with them."  
  
"A blood deal?"  
  
"No, a regular 'kill-me-and-leave-everyone-else-the-hell-alone' deal. They'll send another assassin."  
  
"Then I'll kill it," she replied. Fierceness surged through her body. "And the next one, and the next, and the next, until they finally get the message."  
  
"That won't be necessary," said a third voice from behind them. They turned to see Angel, with his arms crossed in a 'dark avenger' pose. His presence shattered the intimate pocket of space they'd created for themselves on the roof.  
  
"They won't be giving you any more trouble," he continued. "I convinced them to extend their goodwill toward my son to the two of you."  
  
Lindsey started, "How-"  
  
"The chip you gave me has enough info to bring down the house. They couldn't kill me because they already have too much invested in me. So I convinced them to see things my way."  
  
"So it's over?" Faith asked. Was this a dream, she wondered? She dismissed the idea quickly. Her dreams always ended badly.  
  
"Not yet," Angel replied. He stepped so close to Lindsey that if Angel had had any breath to speak of, Lindsey would have gotten a face full of garlic fries. "Where's my son?" he asked.  
  
Lindsey glanced over the side of the building. "Check downstairs," he said. "Unless he's managed to wriggle free, he's tied up in room 16A." Angel gritted his teeth and leaped over the side, leaving Lindsey and Faith alone again.  
  
"I'd rather take the long way down, if it's all the same to you," he told her.  
  
She gripped his hand in hers and led him down the stairs.  
  
More to come...Almost done. 


	15. Chapter 15

Faith peered through the window of Angel's office at the city below. It seemed so peaceful at night, with its softly glowing skyline and quiet hum. Too bad she knew better. But right now all she could think about was how impossibly happy she was. It was an unusual emotion for her. She was intimate with anger, lust, even abject despair, and she was afraid that if she looked away for too long, the happiness would evaporate.  
  
"What do you plan to do now?" asked a voice from behind her. She turned and wondered briefly if Angel ever entered a room like a normal person.  
  
"No real plan," she said. "We're going to drive toward New York and see what happens."  
  
"You don't need to leave town, you know. LA could use you." He slid beside her and looked out at the night, and Faith graced him with a genuine smile.  
  
"Perhaps," she said, "but LA isn't big enough for the both of you."  
  
Angel frowned. "Maybe I have been a little hard on him."  
  
"Was that almost an apology?" she asked.  
  
"Almost. But not quite."  
  
Faith inched closer to Angel until their shoulders touched. She couldn't be mad at him. Not now, when, for the first time in her life, she had something to look forward to. And she had Angel to thank for that. She glanced at him and noticed that he seemed to be in a different dimension entirely.  
  
"Connor'll be OK, you know. He's a tough kid."  
  
"I know," Angel said with a sigh. "Maybe too tough."  
  
After releasing Connor, Angel had insisted that the sorcerers at Wolfram & Hart mojo him again to erase his memories of the past day. Faith had her doubts about Angel's willingness to resort to memory spells to keep Connor's lie in place, but she knew it was none of her business. The boy's destiny would catch up with him soon enough.  
  
Angel seemed to be reading her thoughts when he said, "Soon enough our sons will be working together."  
  
"What makes you so sure it's going to be a boy?"  
  
"I-I just assumed-"  
  
"That it was going to be a boy because you're a sexist pig," she finished. Her tone was light, and her smile lingered at the edges of her lips. If she didn't stop being this good natured, so was going to lose her reputation as a bad-ass.  
  
"I love him, Angel," she whispered. "So much, and it happened so fast."  
  
"It works that way sometimes," he said. It didn't take a telepath to know that he was thinking of Buffy.  
  
"But I'm a Slayer. I don't do long term. And how can I be a mother and take out the creatures of darkness at the same time?"  
  
"Stop it," he ordered. "Enjoy the good while you can, because life will kick you in the ass before you know it."  
  
Strangely enough, Angel's clumsy attempt at comfort did make her feel better. He was right. She couldn't obsess about things that were out of her control.  
  
* * *  
  
Lindsey finished changing the oil and slammed the hood of his truck shut.  
  
"Need anything else?" Wesley asked.  
  
"No," he replied. "That should do it."  
  
Wes, on Angel's orders, had seen to it that Lindsey and Faith had whatever they needed to make their trip, which had included a few minor repairs and basic maintenance on the truck.  
  
Lindsey shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and wished that Wes would just leave. It wasn't that he had anything against the former Watcher; he simply had no idea what to say to him. He had so many questions that seemed woefully inappropriate, most of them surrounding the demise of all his former co-workers -- specifically, Lilah. He pushed them out of his head. Wolfram and Hart was in the past, and Faith was the future.  
  
"Be good to her," Wes said quietly.  
  
"I wouldn't dream of being anything else."  
  
An awkward silence descended, and Lindsey was relieved when he spotted Faith making her way through the parking lot, accompanied by Angel, Gunn and Fred.  
  
"So, this is goodbye," he said to Angel. "I wish I could say I'll miss you, but..."  
  
"Good riddance to you, too," Angel said. He extended his hand, and Lindsey stared at for a full five seconds before comprehending that Angel wasn't going to hit him. He accepted the handshake, and the two of them offered each other a silent truce.  
  
As Faith said her goodbyes, Lindsey climbed into the cab and started up the engine. Within minutes, they were on the road.  
  
Faith asked, "So, what now?"  
  
"I was thinking we'd drive for a bit and then find a place to sleep. In the morning, we can-"  
  
"No," she interrupted. "What are WE going to do now?"  
  
Lindsey was silent while he searched for an answer. "I don't know," he said finally. "I wish I could promise you that we're going to live happily ever after, but we both know how dark and twisted things can get. All I can do is promise you that I'll love you, and I'll do everything in my power not to fuck up."  
  
She nodded. That was acceptable, and, in the end, it was all she could promise him in return. She leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes. It was a long way to New York -- or wherever they ended up.  
  
THE END 


End file.
